


A Means To An End?

by AgentMal



Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Interrogation, Missing Scene, Penis In Vagina Sex, Robin!Tim, Rough Sex, Tim Drake is Robin, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, dark!Tim, mentions of Harley/Joker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMal/pseuds/AgentMal
Summary: Harley Quinn has captured Batman and only Robin can free him- if he can get Harley to give up the key.A very dark extension of the confrontation between Robin and Harley from the Harley Quinn's Revenge DLC of Arkham City.You can see the scene this jumps off from at 8:15 intothis.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Harleen Quinzel
Kudos: 10





	A Means To An End?

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly written in 2017, but was left unfinished and forgotten until just now. It could not have been completed without the amazing support, encouragement, and assistance of [Whispering Imp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispering_Imp). Thanks also go to the fabulous Win, for encouraging and enabling.
> 
> Please mind the warnings- this is about a bad person doing bad things while dressed as a good guy.

Death-worshipping garbage: That's what Joker was. And Harley was, too, Tim was coming to learn. He might have hoped that some of Harley's violence was just to please Joker, that it would lessen after Joker's death. In any case, it hadn't. If anything, she'd gotten worse, mourning Joker's death by trying to be just as insane and destructive as he ever was. She'd already been responsible for dozens of deaths. And she'd captured Batman somehow, which is why Tim was getting an up close look at her operation. Mostly by sneaking around and silently choking out any muscle he ran into.

He had found Batman in a 4-ft sphere in the clutches of a giant Joker statue. Like some kind of living tribute to her personal ambassador to Hell. And who knows what she'd done to Bruce to get him there. Tim’s fists clenched to see him there. To get the key-card to free him, Tim was working through the warehouse to find Harley. It wasn’t hard. She wasn't troubling to keep her voice down as she threatened her own henchmen.

"Don't let me down! Mr. J wouldn't like it if you failed me, would he?"

Her high voice easily carried down the three stories from the catwalk she was standing on.

"No, he wouldn't. He'd be very upset. He'd probably kill you all. Or, break your legs, or glue your eyes open, or make you eat a grenade. Hell, who am I kidding? He'd do something much better. He was Mister J, right?"

Death-worshipping garbage. Oh how Tim wanted to hurt her. 

"He always knew what to do. I'm just here. Alone. Relying on you idiots. So don't fail me!"

-:-

She wasn't trained, wasn't particularly skilled, and not in the same weight class as him, let alone all the roided thugs she kept around, but she still made Tim work for it when he got to her. She would scratch, use found objects, fight dirty. Tim appreciated her scrappiness, born of being in shit situations and doing anything to survive. It meant he had to work for it to pin her down. It also meant he could land a few in the honest quest to subdue her.

Tim grimaced at himself. Honest. Because it was okay to hurt someone if they were fighting, but not if they weren't, regardless of how much pain and ruin they'd caused. Except it was okay to hurt people in cold blood, but only to get information. It was one of the shit parts of working for Bruce- that he had so many rules. No unnecessary force, no killing, no this, no that. Hurt them to interrogate them, but don't hurt them when you don't have to. Well, Tim was hoping she had hid the key and he'd have to beat it out of her.

Tim finally had her braced against the catwalk rail, his hands on her arms. She never stopped struggling.

"Get off me!"

"The key"

"You'll never find it, dumb-ass!"

“Really.”

He was just thinking she had probably stuck it in her cleavage when she almost slipped free and he had to drastically re-grip to get a hold of things.

Tim finally got her pinned on the ground- had to use his whole weight and keep her hands pinned above her head.

She writhed under him, and that's when he noticed how hard he was.

Tim froze. Harley didn't notice, only kept struggling, which was rubbing against him unhelpfully. She was also making breathy noises as she jerked this way and that. "Uh- ahh! Uhh!"

Tim had to move, and he told himself it was mostly to continue to keep her contained. When he did move, the relief was immense, even if he knew it was only stroking his arousal. But then he caught something in her eye, watching him, and some part of him thought maybe she was doing it on purpose.

Before he could think about it, Harley froze herself.

"Oh my god! Is that what I think it is?"

“Uh…” Tim averted his eyes, which was the wrong thing to do.

"It is! Get that disgusting thing off me!"

“Nice try.” Tim wasn't about to give her another opening to get away.

"How dare you even have those thoughts about me! I am a _widow_ in _mourning!_ "

 _Everything_ was about Joker with her. Tim ground his teeth even as he let himself move a little more to keep her pinned. Though once he started moving, he noticed he wasn't stopping. It was a moment of grim seething and stifled humping before he realized she hadn't stopped talking.

"- and you're supposed to be the good guy. But then, I guess you can't have any fun with Batgirl anymore, can you?"

Tim didn't think, he just moved, and then Harley was screaming, her wrist broken. Tim was surprised at how good it felt. 

“What was that?” he asked brutally. 

Except as soon as she caught her breath, which was far too soon, she continued with a steady voice, "Is that it? Is this fun for you, bat boy?"

And then everything changed as she rolled her hips against his. His arousal flared and he had to take a second to catch his breath.

"That it?" she asked lightly, quietly, rolling her hips again, "You wanna have some fun?" She kept moving sinuously, and he found himself moving with her. She made motions as if to wrap her arm around him, but he kept her hands firmly pinned as they ground against each other.

“You’re not my idea of fun, Quinn,”

“Oh, I think I am.”

The surge of power he felt at controlling her was as heady as her movements against him. Tim had to get his head straight. He wasn't here for this. Her cleavage was right under his face. Her waist was tiny, her slender wrists pinned helplessly under his muscled arms.

"Don't--"

But the next second his world turned to pain- she had kneed him in the groin.

Tim groaned through gritted teeth, but he didn't move his weight off her and he didn't let go. She was struggling in earnest now and when she couldn't get free she was kicking wildly, and Tim took a few hits before he was able to pin her legs with his.

Finally, with Harley newly immobilized, pain and anger clearing his head, he remembered why he was here. To get the key, and to hurt Harley. To hurt her for winding him up, for locking Batman in a fucking hamster ball, for killing dozens of people, for everything she'd ever done with Joker. And he still needed the key after all.

"The key," he said for a second time.

"No chance, asshole!"

He thought of watching Batman snapping a man's fingers one by one to get him to talk. He thought of seeing Nightwing lean a man over the edge of a 10 story drop to motivate giving up his boss. He thought of Batman kicking in knees or breaking bones to get the information they needed.

He squeezed her wrist a little, provoking a satisfying, "Ow!" But then she scoffed at him a second later, clearly not intimidated. 

Tim also thought about how little physical violence seemed to mean to Harley. She had shaken off the broken wrist as a matter of course. He'd seen bruises on her from everyone from Batman to Joker. She was used to Joker's antics, his chaos; she was probably immune to anything Batman would do.

"You _will_ tell me where it is."

"Like hell!" she snarled.

Tim suddenly realized a way to hurt her, that wouldn't kill her, that was still something Batman would never do.

"You are going to tell me, because you won't like what's going to happen to you if you don't."

"You know, you're not really good at this, bird-brain. What are you going to do, hit me a few more times?" She bats her eyelashes, "You wouldn't hit a lady."

He adjusted his limbs to better the hold, then transferred both her wrists to one hand and moved so he could put weight on that arm.

“I don’t need to hit you.”

He lowered his free hand to the waist of her pants, resting his hand on the belt buckle. Her eyes flashed to his.

"Tell me."

"No!"

He undid the buckle.

"Where's the key," he said as he drew the belt slowly out of its loops.

When it was drawn free, he dropped it, and at the clatter of the buckle on the catwalk floor Harley flinched. Tim thrilled- this was the first crack in her veneer he'd seen tonight. Maybe it was the first crack he'd seen in her ever.

“Where,” he said as he traced his middle finger along the bare skin above her pants line. He started sliding his fingers up under her bodice in the front, then withdrawing them to trace along her bare abdomen again. 

“You--” It looked like Harley wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Then she was all derision, “You can bluff all you want. I know you wouldn’t do anything. You’re one of the ‘ _gooood guys_ ,’ ha!” She said “good guys” like a child’s taunt, slow and dripping with mockery. 

Looking her in the eyes, Tim popped the button of her fly. “Sure,” he said.

“Oh, please!” Harley said in disbelief. But he thought he caught a hint of uncertainty in her eyes as he drew down the zipper. 

“Where’s the key?”

“Go to Hell!”

“Sure.”

Then he drastically changed his grip and shifted his weight off her, with no warning, and before she could react he had dragged her several feet over and handcuffed her to a vertical bar in the catwalk rail. Then he was back on her, his shins pinning her thighs, toes of his boots on the inside of her shins, one forearm across her collarbone. 

“Get offa me! Let me go!” Tim couldn’t tell if she was going for outraged or annoyed. 

“Tell me where the key is, and I will.” 

In the dragging, her skintight pants had lost their fitted grip around her curves and had slipped down a little. Tim slid down her, carefully maintaining the hold, until his hands were curled into her pants at each hip. He gave a couple good yanks and got them down half a foot. 

“If you don’t, we do this the hard way.” He pressed his erection against her leg as he said it: less for his gratification and more as a threat. 

“Ooooh, I’m so scared. Bet you don’t even know how to use that thing, birdboy!” Tim was impressed. Brave words for someone who was exposed navel to mid-thigh. 

“Keep holding out on me and you’ll find out,” he said as he slid back up her. 

“No one touches me except my,” and here she said it on a wistful sigh, “Mr. J...”

Without even thinking about it, Tim pushed his hand between her legs, “Doesn’t look like he’s doing a good job of stopping me.”

“GET OFF!” She yelled, “Get- auuugh! AAAAAAAAAH! Hrrrraugh! Get off!” She yelled, screamed, and snarled inarticulately, only those two words making it out now and again. 

“If you don’t tell me what I want to know,” he rolled his hips emphatically against her bare thigh, “it looks like I will.” 

Harley looked at him as she screamed as high as she could, right in his face.

“None of your hired goons are coming to your rescue, Quinn.” Tim was opening his pants with one hand as he said it, the other still between her legs.

“I don’t _need_ rescuing!” Again, given the situation, Tim marveled at her bravado.

“Yeah? Gonna break out any second? Or are you enjoying yourself?” Tim started moving his fingers roughly in the warm wet of her, “Looks like you don’t just want it from that dead clown.”

“DON’T talk about Mr. J like that!”

Tim removed his hand so he could use both to put on a condom, then lined up his dick. It had never been less of an implement of pleasure for him. As he held it, it was more a blunt weapon. Effective. Impersonal. Some faint part of him registered the irony of that, since this was probably the most personal thing he’d ever done to someone.

“What do you think he’d say about this? Think he’d blame you for betraying him?”

“How dare you talk about him! You don’t know him!” 

Tim started pressing the head into her, though she wasn’t loose enough for it to go at first. 

“Not anymore,” he agreed. “And whatever else I know, I _know_ -” and here, as he said it, barely catching her gasp as he did it, he pushed unforgivingly into her, “that he’s _never_ coming _back_.”

“Mr. Jaaaaaaaaaaaaay,” she wailed. 

Once seated in her, Tim closed his eyes a moment, let himself catch his breath. Her wails were faint in his ears. 

His sensory focus was below the belt, true, but not so much that it was a surprise when she spat in his face.

He didn’t immediately react. When he did, it was to start to move in shallow thrusts. He wiped a hand across his face before opening his eyes. They held nothing but cold hatred.

Harley’s expression was not very different. “And you say you’re so much better than us. HA!” 

Tim grabbed her jaw brutally with one hand, turning her head away a little as with his other hand he wiped her spit off on her forehead and hair, then yanked her head back to scrape his teeth down her exposed neck. When he got down to the meat of her shoulder, he bit down as hard as he felt like, uncaring about her yelled, “Ow!” or if he drew blood. 

When he lifted his head he angled hers back down to face him with both hands. By this point he had lengthened his thrusts a little and had found a slow, steady rhythm. The look in her eyes was feeding him, making it even hotter.

He should have been horrified at what he was doing, some tiny part of him thought. That faint shred of his conscience was aghast that he was capable of this, but the part of him that was in charge was just surprised that he enjoyed it. He would have done it either way- he felt the need for it to happen regardless of his immediate pleasure. 

He slid the hand on her jaw down to her neck.

“Want to tell me where that key is?”

“Screw you!”

“Working on it.”

“I always knew there was something wrong with you.”

“And you’d think a guy that dresses like a flying animal to beat up muggers would be normal.” 

“You want to save your Batman, you want to live up to your precious Batman?!? You think he’d be okay with this? 

“Fuck him.”

And Tim knew he was really getting to her, because she’d said ‘Batman’ instead of some derisive nickname. Good.

At his retort, Harley looked properly alarmed. Not for the profanity itself, Tim guessed, but for damning Batman. Good. Even better. 

Harley tried to bury her alarm under derision that was seeming more and more to be affect. “And you’re supposed to be the good guy.”

Tim had a thought. He changed his angle and pace as he reached down to play with her clit. “Do you want me to be the good guy?”

Harley was looking to the side. He took the opportunity to lean his face close and kiss her gently on her jaw. He put some effort into what he was doing below, trying to get a reaction. 

And he got one. At a particular twitch of his hand she gasped. He did it more and she started breathing heavily. He thought about extracting himself to go down on her for a while, but discarded the thought. He dismissed, also, the momentary impulse to open her corset to gain access to her breasts. 

Harley was reacting to what he was doing, and it was driving him nuts. She made a little noise and he was suddenly moaning hugely. 

He was just starting to shift his legs a bit to more comfortably chase what he needed, when he caught something in her eyes. 

Suddenly he knew, and he didn’t know how, that it wasn’t real. She was putting on a show to get him to slip up so she could hurt him again. He paused — at which she looked at him — and then planted his hands on the floor and started pounding into her.

“Think you can, unnh, just pant and moan and I’ll drop the cuff keys?”

She had gone from looking aroused to considering to bitter in seconds.

“It was working, weren’t it?” Her voice bounced a little from his violent thrusts.

The bitter look on her face turned more and more sour in front of his eyes. 

“You know what they say- fool me twice…” Tim slid a hand along her side. “And that’s your problem, Quin, thinking the same thing will work every time. These assholes you pay to follow you around stare at you a few times and now you think you can get anything you want with a little show?”

At that she burst into tears. Tim honestly couldn’t tell if they were real or for show, and he didn’t care. He slid his hand up to her bust and cupped one breast over her corset. 

“Though you do put on quite a show.” He planted his mouth on her exposed breast above the line of her corset. 

“Get- get offa me,” she said through her tears.

Tim smirked. “Sure,” he said, then started pounding into her even harder.

At that she started struggling more fiercely than at any point so far. She thrashed and bucked and lurched and tried to get her legs up to knee him again. She even tried to pull them both toward her cuffed hands, dragging him on top of her a couple of inches, though Tim could imagine the pressure that must put on her broken wrist. She was snarling as she did it, angry tears still falling. 

Tim had a handful keeping her pinned, let alone staying in her, which he didn’t. But after he got her under control by slamming her head against the catwalk floor a few times, he got to have the satisfaction of shoving roughly back into her again. He could feel rather than hear her strangled cry at that.

Tim revelled at getting a reaction from her. 

“I have to say, Quinn, I’m impressed.”

She huffed a second before retorting, “Oh, put a sock in it!”

“No, I am. You just put as much weight as you could on your broken wrist to yank us over. I’ve done moves like that before, I can imagine how much it hurt.”

And there, it seems, was the end of Harley’s seemingly infinite ability to quip and rebuke, because she held her silence, looking sour and truly pissed off. It was just as well: Tim was getting closer to his release and when she didn’t respond he smiled and went for broke. It was only a couple more minutes of soft grunting and metal creaking before Tim was spilling into her. Well, into the condom anyway.

He came down from it and slumped on top of her, catching his breath. She remained uncharacteristically silent. 

At last he started to get up. He pulled out, removed the condom and was about to tie it off when his training sparked back to life and he had to dodge Harley’s legs. She had been so still and limp he had let himself slack off on maintaining the hold on her, and she had done it for the opportunity to knee him or kick him while he was distracted. 

He dodged sharply and reflexively brought a fist hard across her temple, knocking her out. 

He had been feeling more and more grim since the afterglow started to fade, and now looking at her tear-stained, unconscious, soon-to-be-bruised face made him even more uncomfortable. An ugly feeling was rising in him that he didn’t want to look at. 

He made short work of putting himself away and straightening his armor, and then took a little less care and a little more time doing the same to her. Her pants were so close cut it was kind of a pain to redress her without her help. But eventually he got her pants over her butt and from there the rest wasn’t a problem. In the course of it he went ahead and shoved his hand into her corset, digging around her cleavage, and found the keycard stashed there after all.

He left her hanging from the catwalk by her ankle, still unconscious but in that position she’d wake soon enough, and he headed back to the opposite end of the facility where Bruce was locked up. They’d be back out on the streets dealing with the larger mess in no time. 

-:-

Weeks later, Bruce received a thumbdrive. It was sent to Batman anonymously, but he knew it was from Harley Quinn from the trivia needed to unlock the encrypted files. 

Interesting. What did Dr. Harleen Quinzel want Batman to know that she didn’t want anyone else knowing, even Robin?

He tested the drive on a non-networked laptop, of course, to make sure it was safe, and then he plugged it into the main terminal. 

It contained a single set of files. When he opened them each briefly, he saw they were different angles of security footage in an industrial building. He set them up to all play with timestamps aligned and then watched. Very quickly he recognized the warehouse. Then he recognized the crew and their leader. Soon after, he spotted Tim working toward her, going stealthily through her crew one at a time...


End file.
